In a world spilling over with sequels, reboots and Marvel spin-offs, surely Tarsem Singh’s sci-fi thriller deserves a second look. And check out that forward slash!

The film is concerned with a ruthless New York billionaire, Damian, who discovers compassion just as he becomes embroiled in identity theft. The solidus signifies (among other things) a conflict or a connection between two words. What are we when we’re less than ourselves? Is the ego a creative or destructive force? Will punters trotting off to see this movie refer to it as “Selfless” or “Self slash less”? That simple bit of punctuation generates so many questions. Tragically, the film itself is as dumb as a doorknob.

Damian (Ben Kingsley), who’s always too busy to tell his Left-wing daughter Claire (Michelle Dockery) that he loves her, is convinced by a shady, elitist scientist called Albright (Matthew Goode) to shed his cancer-ridden body and have his consciousness transferred to a new “vessel”. He wakes up looking like Ryan Reynolds only to discover (several shags later) that this vessel has a past.

As Damian tries to make peace with that history he becomes a surrogate father-figure to a cute kid (Jaynee Lynne Kinchen — good, but not a patch on Catinca Untaru in Singh’s under-rated gem, The Fall). He’s also targeted by various goons and, though he’s able to biff them into submission thanks to his new biceps, he has to flee from a string of buildings.

Maybe he’s in possession of an incredible gadget, one that allows a frantic man to pack a suitcase with aplomb? Because, despite the mayhem, Damian’s (expensive) clothes gain nary a crease. The film’s message is that love trumps money yet its real aim is to make our hero look like a million dollars.

If the script’s exposé of capitalism is shallow, its take on race relations is downright peculiar. Though much of the action is set in New Orleans no reference is made to the fact that Damian’s shedding involves a change of skin colour, while another obscenely rich character chooses to be reborn as a black man. You’d think America was a post-racist society. I know this is science fiction, but really...

The longer the film goes on the more nonsensical and anonymous it seems, plundering classics such as John Frankenheimer’s Seconds to zero effect. Singh’s work is original in name only. Upon leaving the cinema, punters may be tempted to observe: “That was hope slash less.”